A History To Us All
by AcrossTheWorld
Summary: Every country has a history. To know this history, one must start at the very beginning. From the young colony to a world superpower, America has evolved into what we know today. And this is the history of this nation. Fem!America.
1. The Start of It All

It was spring. Evidence was all around as the people came out of their houses with a smile on their faces. Flowers started to bloom by doorsteps. The heavy winter furs that were required to stay warm were thrown off for lighter fabrics. Even the people seemed happier. No longer in fear of dying from starvation due to the cold months. That was replaced from simply starving in general, but there was a difference than most people seemed to understand.

Two men sat next to each other in the Palace of Fontainebleau. One of the men had dark brown hair that while was short, seemed to be messy with no hope of fixing it. Green eyes met the other man. Long and beautiful blond hair that was tied to keep some of the locks out of his face. The two men went back and forth with each other. One spoke Spanish, but was greeted with French in return. And so the conversation went on.

"More and more stories are coming in about this new world," the Spaniard said. "I have not been able to see this with my own eyes, but the letters I manage to read are fascinating. Trees covered in fruits that we have never seen! I want you to try something later. I believe that it may even surpass your food."

The French man laughed. "Impossible. Though it'll beat the English." A small joke between the two. Their shared hatred for the English throne made the two bond. On top of their religious similarities made them good allies between their bosses. "Speaking of the devil, I have heard news from a spy. They have informed my boss that England himself is to travel to the new world?"

He frowned, sitting up a bit in his chair. The relaxed smile that was one on the tanned face of the Spaniard soon faded away. Though his nation had first visited this new world, he had not set foot on it. And now England was going. "Why? To convert people to his religion?"

"No. Settle, I've heard."

A dry laugh erupted from the man. "Settle? Set up colonies there? England would never leave his palace for the wooden structures of colonies. There has to be another reason he's going."

France nodded. He had thought the same. But the Spaniard seemed to have a passion whenever he got upset. Getting him riled up made for a better conversation. "It may be because of what Finland said. He heard rumors of a child running around the new world when he visited all those years ago. Tanned skin, but with blond hair and blue eyes. Clearly of European style and not like the savages. A boy who hasn't aged."

"France, are you implying that this new world has a representation?" Spain thought that would be insane. Perhaps one that looked like the savages, but to have a blond hair little boy running around in deer skin was very odd. "It could be a child from when Finland visited. He had a few there that remained. The savages could have ran the town and took him captive?"

France paused. It was unlikely, but so was the idea of a representation of the new world. "I suppose we'll have to go and find out. Do you believe that Romano will allow you to be gone for that long?"

Spain laughed, shaking his head. "I doubt it. I will probably go in a few years. You must go. Find this boy for me if you do. Romano might have a little friend just yet." He could imagine the two playing. His precious Romano with the little deer skinned boy."

"Well, I do have to beat dear old England. Though his ship has left before mine. Might be a little too late."

* * *

England had never felt worse.

His stomach threatened to lunge whenever the boat hit a rocky wave. He was able to get used to it and hold down a piece of bread or soup every now and then, but other foods refused to go down. It was hell. He simply prayed that they would hit land soon. After months of being on board, he was ready to jump off and swim the rest of the way.

England rose from his small bed. He was luckier than the others. He and the captain actually had their own rooms. His wasn't as fancy. A bed with a desk and a small wardrobe for clothing. It didn't need to be fancy anyhow. Soon they would dock and build houses. Beautiful houses. Then he would take his leave after a month and return home to tell his King about his findings.

Three months. It had been three months since he had last seen land. Although this was the adventure of a lifetime, he was now regretting taking up his king and asking to go. He had explained it as his duty as nation. Giving a long lecture on his responsibilities. His King managed to be convinced a few days before the journey was headed out. While it was true what he said, he had his own motive for going on this trip. The legend from the Nordic nations that spoke about a blonde little girl in savage clothing. The little girl that never would grow up. If he could find this child as his people colonized the nation, he would be able to keep the little one under his rule. France and Spain would never get their hands on it. His empire could expand to even more greatness.

"Mister England! Mister England!" The door to his room was opened suddenly. Joseph, one of the younger boys, smiled brightly as he entered. "The lookout spotted land! We finally found land!"

England stood quickly. His legs wobbling to hold his weight as he went up the stairs. It was very faint, but in the distance land was there. Trees that already looked to reach to the sky. Green seemed to be everywhere. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever been able to witness. Even if he was still hours away from touching the ground, he already knew deep down that this would be a place of wonder. The little fairies that always danced in his eyes seemed to be excited. Even flying away from him to get there before the ship.

"By God's grace." The captain took off his hat. It seemed as if the land put a spell over everyone there. "We've finally made it. Once we're close enough we'll start getting people on the smaller boats. Mister England, you shall be on one of the first."

"Yes sir."

It took three more hours until the ship was close enough to begin lowers boats. England was there with around fifteen others. Mostly men had came on this trip, but there were a few ladies who were either single and needing a new home or decided to come with their husbands. But frankly on this trip, there weren't very many.

Once they arrived on land, England scrambled to get off the boat. His feet touched the sandy beaches and he fell. Hands dug into the sand, relishing in the warmness and the comfort that the strip of land. Besides the beaches it seemed to grow into thicker and thicker trees. And somewhere in those trees hid the little girl that never grew.

"Louis, did we dock on course?" England asked, glancing to a man in his thirties. He watched him get out the map he carried around to look, trying to pin where they were.

"It appears we are close. Why do you ask, Mister England?" He asked. "Are you looking for something? Do you believe in the rumors of golden cities?"

England laughed. "That is only Spanish propaganda. Nothing more than to enchant foolish Spaniards into leaving behind everything. Do not believe those rumors."

Louis gave a quick nod. He went to the others when he saw that England wanted nothing more of him. To him, it seemed as if the nation was mad. Staring into the forest as if he would break out into a sprint in a moments notice. "Only God knows what he's looking for." He muttered as he rejoined the group of men.

As the rest of the men spoke about where to set up camp and preparing to see if the ground was steady enough to hold a house, England slowly made his way into the forest. He had a few things going for him. Even if he met the savages, they could not kill him. Nations like he only died if the nation itself collapsed. So unless these savages managed to catch a ride on a ship and defeat the great English, he would be fine. Besides, he heard how they thought of the white man. Perhaps they would see him as a sort of god and take him to the little girl?

The forest was filled with beautiful things. Deer stood and stared at him before they ran away. New types of animals at his feet. Even beautiful flowers he had never seen before laid all over the woodland floor. It was as if he had slipped into a heaven of some sorts. Where man had not touched even the slightest inch.

England was beginning to lose hope about the rumors of the little girl. He swore they landed in the right place. Positive even. But the woods were starting to look all of the same with no hope in breaking it. Perhaps he was fooled with old Finnish rumors. Besides, it was a country filled with savages. There would be little hope that a pale skinned girl would be representing the entire nation. But he felt so stupid. He wanted it to be tree. He wanted to believe that they landed in the correct place so he could at least attempt to find her. Pray to God that he wasn't off and now just a foolish man lost in the woods.

However, it seemed as if fate had been on the English side.

A sudden yell jolted him to look up instead of at his feet. In front of him stood a female, but not what he imagined. She was tall. Long black hair that went down to her waist. In terms of clothing she was barely covered. At least not to European standards. In her hand was a knife of sorts that looked just as deadly as his own.

As his green eyes connected to her brown ones, England took a step back. It wasn't like in the story books that he saw a flash of light and suddenly knew her entire life story. That was just make believe for children. However, he did see something. Only nations possessed this trait. While their skin could be clear and body healthy, their eyes always gave them away. Showing how old they truly were. That their eyes had seen wars and blood shed. As their bosses died and suddenly wearing black became more than just a fashion trend or needed to stay warm.

The woman spoke but England couldn't understand. How nations learned languages were complicated. Either they could sit down and attempt to master the vocabulary and patterns, or they could wait until the population of those people became large in their country. England was fluent in many languages because of these reasons. Living forever gave him time to master them. She did not know English and he did not know her tongue. However, many Spaniards had came to the New World before. He was almost sure that she had to pick up a few words.

"I know not your tongue. And you do not know mine." England said in Spanish. He watched as her eyes moved for the slightest second. She understood, confirming his suspicions that she was the New World representation. "But I know another and it appears you do as well. Now, tell me your name."

Her eyes did not meet his again. England watched the woman shift her knife in her hands. To him, it looked as if she was debating to kill him or not. She would find it was harder than one would think.

"I will not reveal the name I was given, for the people of your tongue will never use it," her voice was strong. Not meek or frightened, nor did it appear she see him in a godly manner. It was if he was talking to France or even the Netherlands. "First it was the men with furs on ships. They come to my land and scare my people. Next it was the Spaniards, who force the people to the south to convert to their religion and be used as slaves. Now you appear. Hair like corn and eyes like grass. Why are you here?"

England took a single step back. He wasn't planning on running. As the woman spoke she got angrier. He would be able to block better in this stance if she came at him with the bone knife. "To colonize." He replied in a straightforward voice. "Though I have a personal reason."

She glared, her brown eyes focusing on his own. It seemed as if the native woman was ready to charge. "To colonize. To take my land away from my people and replace it as your own. And what of this personal reason? Do your gods compel you to do so?"

"No particularly. I am looking for someone. Perhaps you know her. A little girl. She has pale skin like me. Blonde hair and blue eyes was in the rumors. You wouldn't happen to know if this is true or not?"

The glare vanished for a second. Instead a look of shock was replaced on her face. England guessed he was correct. There was such a nation on this New World after all. One modeled after the European nations. God would see it fit that someone would take over this savage land after all.

Her expressed soon turned into anger once more. She pointed her knife at the man and took steps forward. "You will forget the rumor. May your gods erase it from your mind before I must." She knew that denying it would leave him to be more suspicious. Her face did not mask what she had feared most. Best to threaten his life in hope that he would run away and never returned to this place. "Leave my land! Your people will not survive an onslaught with mine. My numbers are greater. My people's strength is larger. So flee."

England only smiled at her. He knew the truth. While she had more men, he had weapons. Latest technology that would easily kill her people if it ever came to combat. "My people wish no such fighting with yours. I merely wanted to know if the rumors were true. It appears that they are. Please. Allow my captain to see your uh, leader. We will work out a negotiation and..." He watched the woman run off from him, taking flight in the woods. The trees covered her path well. In seconds he could no longer see her. "Well, that worked..."

* * *

The brown haired woman ran to the tribe as quickly as she possibly could. Fear coursing through her body as she ran closer to the child. Finally they were here for her. She knew the moment she found the child in the woods that something would happen. Those who had came so long enough could not have just left the blonde hair baby girl. She told the tribe that she was brought by the gods. Hair as golden as the sun as eyes that matched the clear sky.

The girl was closer to the woods than she should have been. Painted Turtle, she had been called. After all these years she looked to be around four or five. Able to walk on her own and speak. Her words every now and then mixed together with their native tongue and another unknown.

"My child." The woman embraced her, pulling her close to her breast. "You must follow me now. We must go swiftly towards the river."

The child looked up to her, blinking in confusion. "Mother..." Go to the river? "I walked through the trees. To the beach while you went for food. There were big things with people! There were people white as snow!" She looked to her own arms. They looked like her. "Who are they, Mother?"

She shook her head, taking her arm and tugging him towards the river. She would not allow the child to be damned in this fate. They would rip apart the child. Take everything pure about her and force it out of her. "You will not know them. You cannot know them."

The little one frowned. She was confused on why Mother was acting like this. They were friendly people. At least they seemed friendly enough. On top of the fact that they looked like her. She had never met a person before that looked like her. Blonde hair just like hers! "Mother, please."

"No." Her voice suddenly became sharp. She knelt to the child and took hold of her shoulders. "These are not good people. They will bring destruction to our great nation. Swear on your hair, my little one. Do not go near these people." She had so much to tell her. Though she was young she would have to learn.

Or else their little world would be forever changed.

Once they finally made it to the river, the older woman squeezed the little girl close to her. "Please. My child you are so small. Your little mind does not understand everything that must happen. But there are people who are like you that wish to harm our tribes. They wish to bring destruction. They wish to take you from my arms and take you back to their strange world. In my heart I will not let it happen." She cupped her cheeks, a small smile appearing on her mouth. "Painted Turtle, I must go back to the tribe. You will run. Remember the way the river runs and you will have fresh water. You have been alive with me for so long you know the berries that bring smiles and the berries that bring death. You know how to escape the angry bears. Follow the water. And follow your heart. One day, we shall be together again."

Most of what she was saying was going over the little girl's head. What she understood was that Mother wanted her to leave. The people at the ships with skin like hers were bad. "Mother..." She felt warm lips be pressed against her forehead.

"You are scared. But you have bravery in your heart. Now go. Flee quickly before the pale ones catch you, my dear." She saw the fear in the little one's eyes. No child should have to run away due to fear of capture. They should be fed berries and told stories on why the butterfly flies, not hold a knife and ready to kill if needed be.

She watched the blonde hair girl go down the river. In her mind she would grow. This would not stop the armies of the pale one from coming, but it should make it to where they would not be able to find her. This nation would slowly grow and the little one would as well. One day when they really came for her, she would be older and stronger.

* * *

It had almost been a month since they had docked on the land. England looked over the new settling colony, a small smile appearing on his face. They were doing well so far. The most important things were attempting to gather enough food to last them the winter and build their shelters. Firewood would not be a hard thing to come around, seeing how there was a copious amount of trees surrounding the camp. All was going well for the people of the new colony. The only one who was having a difficult time was England himself.

In the month he had been on this New World, he had not managed to find the little girl with the blonde hair. Every day, and against the captains orders, he went out into the woods in search for her. Every flash of gold in the corner of his vision was her. England would be damned if he had to return home without the girl at his side.

He ventured in once more. The captain was busy speaking to another, so it was easy to slip into the green. England had to find her. Not only had they settled but he would be able to show off that the colony was really his. The stupid Spaniard had his precious Romano. So he would have his own New World.

For the most part, England always took the same path. It was easy for him not to get lost this way and it was around where he had met the native representative. By the way she acted the blonde was there somewhere. If he kept looking he would find her. Pull her away from the savage life style and show her what she should be. Not to mention today he felt beyond lucky. His little fairies followed him today instead of exploring themselves. He would find the girl today.

"This way! This way!" The fairies tugged at is jacket, trying to lead him off the path he always took. "This way!"

England looked to the creatures. "Did you find her and not tell me?" He asked with a little smile. "You sly little ones. Keeping such a large secret from me." They kept chanting 'this way, this way' over and over again. Fairies always had a one track mind when it came to things. Hard to pry their little attention spans from anything if it did not interest them. Getting them to spy on France was difficult when all they wanted to do was to sleep on pretty flowers. "Not telling me-" He cut himself off, his eyes looking at the clearing. Grass went to his knees and the sun shined so brightly on the few flowers that were there.

And in the middle was her.

She looked just as the rumors told of her. Golden blonde hair that was braided, bright blue eyes that could be seen even from where he had been hiding away. She was small. Appeared to be only a 4 or 5 year old girl. But in a New World full of brown skinned natives, she was truly the one he was looking for. Pride swelled in his chest as relief washed over England. He had found her. After a month on this land he had finally found her.

"Hello there," England said. She looked up with a scared expression, her eyes trailing his skin mostly. He knew it must be a shock to finally find someone of their own kind. "My name is England. Do you understand what I am saying to you?"

The little girl reached down and grabbed the stick she used for a weapon. It didn't do much to kill anything, but it startled the bushes and chipmunks. She understood very little of what he was trying to say to her. Only his name seemed to stick in her head. "Skinned white bad." She tried to remember how the men of her former tribe held the spears in their hands. In her mind, her little stick could kill him.

England took a step forward. He had a friendly smile on his face. Everything he was doing was trying to show that he was peaceful in nature. "But you have white skin as well. Does that mean you are bad." England saw her frown. Perhaps he was getting to her. "Where are your people? Did they leave you? You are only a little girl. They shouldn't leave little girls on their own," he paused. He wanted her to come willingly. "I wouldn't leave you."

As he stepped closer, the little girl held up her stick more. England was no more than a few feet from her at this point. 'white skinned bad." She repeated. "Go!"

"White skin people are not bad. They left you. I won't ever leave you. Please?" He held out a hand for her as if she was a scared little deer. "There are other people who are not as kind. They speak a different language than me. They will take you away and never allow you to leave. But I'll be here. Like...like a big brother. Brother." Something felt uncomfortable about the word to him, but if it caused the little girl to trust him more, what was the hurt?

"Come on. Follow me. I'll be your big brother and protect you forever."

* * *

/Authors Note: Thank you all for reading this far. I'm trying really hard to get everything done so I could post this one chapter. Please review on how you think. More reviews kind of get me encourage to write even more. Thank you all again and have a wonderful day :)


	2. Murder of the People

Poets have always given the seasons personality traits as if they were real people. They used beautiful metaphors to describe the living beats that haunt of make the very day people live. Spring is a beautiful woman. Long and beautiful brown hair that went almost to the floor. Her skin pale as the snow that was melting away. Eyes blue like the skies, dress thin with lighter colors of a new day. Summer was a young girl in high spirits. Shorter hair and though she was not as beautiful, her wit always amazed those around her. Her skin kissed by the sun and turning her into almost a Spaniard. Autumn was shy. Red hair in curls as the leaves of the season danced around her heavy dress and laugh full of pumpkin sweets. Winter was distant from all others. Her skin pale as snow and her eyes white. However, she wore dark black for the morning of people that were killed by her icy cold season.

It was winter now. The days had lately been cold. Nights freezing over and icy winders blowing out the fires. Husband and wife who had not spoken in months curled up with one another to keep in some heat.

It was March 5, 1770.

America woke up from the sudden nightmare in a cold sweat. It had plagued her nights for a week now. Screams and bombs going off as she ran for cover. Her people running for cover. However each time she tried to look to see who caused it she woke. Her dream never allowing her the satisfaction of knowing who was behind it all. One day she would find out. She would force herself to get past the fear and see once and for all who it was.

Her house was cold that morning. While the fire had kept going throughout the night thanks to a few maids, there was something about the house that kept her under the covers long after she woke. Her house was lavish but not fit for a King, at all. A kitchen and a cellar where food could be kept, a parlor, three bedrooms and a room for the chamber pots. Just enough room if England ever decided to visit and bring along Canada.

That was when the date stuck into her mind. The girl shot out of bed and was quick to try and get dressed on her own. It wouldn't matter much how she looked until she arrived home. With the cold weather outside the fur coat would hide everything. Yet she wanted to look good. The words flashing against her eyes of why today would be an amazing day. England was coming all the way from England to visit her. It had been much too long since the last visit. Now, according to his letters, his boss was allowing him to stay three whole weeks with her. England of course said it was to manage over the colony and ensure that jobs appointed by the King were in place. However America knew the truth. He was there for her and her alone.

Her looks for now were nothing fancy. A plain dress she would switch out later once he had arrived and her hair in nothing more than a braid. England always remarked on how long hair was the fashion trend around England. Even in her own little colony the popularity of thick and long hair had been growing. She kept hers in that manner. The golden blonde locks falling to her waist in curls that were all natural. All of which went perfectly with her eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever the sun hit them.

"Emma! Emma!" She ran down the stairs of the two story house, jumping on the last step as her maid came to the call. Two maids and one butler. That was all America thought she would ever need. "Today is the day. England's boat is supposed to be arriving. He promised me that it would be here."

Emma smiled. Her mistress always looked happy when other nations came to visit. Though technology in ships had greatly improved, there was always the chance that the ship ran late. If her mistress came home with no one today it would not be very good. "Lady America, he will hopefully be here. Now please sit down to enjoy your morning meal. If he finds you have skipped it he would not be very pleased."

America rolled her eyes at the girl however she went into the dining room anyways. "When he gets here, I need all of the fires to be lit and candles burning. It needs to be warm. He has spent so long on the sea that I feared he had frozen to death. On top of the fact that Canada might visit too. He is still young. We cannot have him catching a cold."

The growth of nations varied from person to person. Normally, it was based on population and growth and how long they had been alive. Though the latter could fluctuate from time to time. Her own nation had grown from the few tribes that lived there to a large land hold colony. She grew in such a short amount of time while her brother, Canada, was still in a child-like form. She looked about sixteen while her brother could barely pass for six. However that was fine. It was easier to get him to play childlike games with her that way.

"Lady America, I do not know if nations can catch colds like that." Emma bowed as her mistress ran off to eat. A few slices of bread with milk was all she could have before getting ready to leave. Tea would be served later on in the evening when England arrived. Something they could do later while they discusses other political matters. She had a lot to speak about.

She finished her meal quickly. The exact time that English was going to arrive was uncertain. They had not gotten that good at predicting just yet. However she was sure that he would be here. It was the matter of waiting down by the harbor until she ship came up.

"I am going now. I shall return with England soon enough. I swear!" America put on her fur coat as she went to run out. How she hated the cold. Though this morning it seemed to have heated up. Spring may be coming early this year.

The streets of Boston were already in a rush and hustle. People trading in the market. Children rushing through the streets playing their little games. It was always a beautiful sight to witness for America. Her people in happiness. The only thing she felt was odd was the British redcoats that littered the harbor. When they were first assigned she told how it worried her to England. Explaining in great detail that it looked as if they were ready to fight. Her poor citizens would not look them in the eyes in fear of prosecution. England explained that they were needed there in case France tried to start another war with the natives, England called them savages still no matter how many times America protested it.

Though it seemed so far off that France would try to fight, she believed England.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the people crossing in front of her. America hit someone dead on, causing her to fall to the ground while the other lost their balance. "I am sorry. I did not-" She stopped herself when she saw the older man in front of her. The panic turned into a smile as she stood back up. "Mr. Franklin! It is nice to see you!"

Benjamin Franklin. America and he had been good friends since meeting. Normally they had tea or coffee over a small debate. America, honestly, loved listening to him speak. The way his sentences had a deeper meaning or if they were just silly jokes she could recite to the workers.

"Lady America." Benjamin gave a small bow before straightening up, his hand holding onto his cane still. "You seem cheerful today? Is there a reason?"

America nodded. "England is coming today. His ship should arrive here sometime today and he shall be staying."

She watched his face go from a smile back to a frown, as if the mentions of England made the male upset. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing, Lady America. I am not one to say for the entire population, however I believe that not all of your citizens are happy with England. Many feel that the taxation's that are being placed upon us is not fair." Benjamin was careful with his words. He knew how much America loved England. They were like siblings. Bound at the hip.

"Oh. Well yes we do get the taxes from England. I have spoken about this with him after all in letters. He wrote to me back and said how they were needed because of the war. They fought for us and now they need assistance in paying." America did not see what was muddy about this. Perhaps it was the people who could not afford the taxes placed. Or how they had little representation. "If you wish I can show you the letters. He explains everything very clearly."

Mr. Franklin shook his head at the idea. "No Lady America. No need. Believe me, I was once in support for these taxes. These days I am not so sure." He let out a cough, taking his handkerchief and coughing into that instead. After the fit passed he looked to the girl. America was smiling and waiting as ever to hear him continue on. "Did you hear about the young boy that died a week or so ago? The people are in an outrage about his death."

America looked to the ground. The little boy who had been killed by a gunshot of a Loyalist. She even attended his funeral. "Pity they die young."

"He did not have to die, though, Lady America."

"I know," America paused. "I shall speak to England about these things. Perhaps he can offer kindness in his words. Perhaps he knows-" America was cut off by shouting near the harbor. Even from where she was standing she could see the incoming flags of the boat. "England is here. That must be his ship. I apologize Mr. Franklin but we must got our conversation short. I swear to return back to you." America gave a small bow before rushing off towards the boat.

Finally, England was here. He always wrote his letters. Stating how things were very busy over in England and that he would attempt to come as soon as possible. Somehow through convincing, he managed to get away from his boss long enough to see her. Now she would spend the next few weeks with him. Laughing over tea, speaking about political matters, but mostly enjoying the time they got.

America raced down pass the market place. Stopping only to apologize if she accidentally ran into someone. Now that the boat was here she couldn't stop to strike up a conversation. Too much excitement filled her heart to mimic what happened with Mr. Franklin. As she arrived she watched the people get off the boat. Mostly those who had family in the colony and were finally able to live with their husbands or brothers. Her eyes wandered until she saw the flop of blond hair getting off the boat with two suitcases.

"England!" She waved a hand to get his attention. She couldn't help the happiness that washed over her. At least America had the patience to wait until he was on the ground before getting her hug. The young colony had her strength. England always told a story that when he first found her she could lift a buffalo and spin it around. It was far fetched though she didn't have a reason for England to lie to her.

"America, it is good to see you." The older nation gave her a small pat on the back and a hug. He seemed oddly distant suddenly. Even pulling away to look her over. Though America did not realize it, she had grown. No longer did she come up to his waist and gave to jump to hug him. Instead, she was just above his chin. The rapid growth of her nation caused her to become taller and large. Her body looking of that as a teen while England had yet to look a day older. "You've become bigger."

America looked down, as if to examine herself to see if his claims were true. "I suppose I might be. Have you seen Canada lately? Has he grown at all?"

England shook his head. "I saw him a few months ago. Business, America. That's why I couldn't visits you as well." He shifted his suitcase to his other hand, shaking it out. "He hasn't grown very much. He looks, well he looks like you were last time I saw you. You grew up much too fast. Anyways, let us not dwell on this. It is cold and we should get out of it."

"Yes, you're right. Follow me back to the house." America took his arm and started to walk him towards the house. Her words carrying out the happier things that had happened while he was gone. Washing over the fact that her people were not happy about the recent taxes or the death of the little boy. She could speak about these things later. Over tea where she could perhaps calm him down.

Upon arrival, her maid took his coat and was ready to take his suitcases when England stopped her. "No, keep this one. I have a special present for America in it." Emma nodded and took only the first up to his room. The mentioning of a gift sparked something in America and she came closer.

"A gift? Please show me. Show please."

England nodded. He opened up the case to reveal a dress. "Your maid told me how you grew larger and outgrew all of the dresses that you once had. I took it upon myself to have someone make a dress with these new measurements." He swore when the maid sent them that she was lying. However now up close the dress might be too tight. "Though you look uh, nice, your dress seems to be lacking the usual fashion of a higher class lady. You must look your part, America. You are representing your colony after all. What would France say if he saw you. He would think that the economic stability was down and would try to take you away from me again."

"Truly? By just my dress?" America did not see the bad in it. She had fancier, yes, however she saw no real problem. It fit, it covered everything, and kept out the cold for the most part.

"Well of course. Now go and put this on. I'll make us some tea."

America was quick to nod and go up to get the dress on. After unpacking it all she found that she needed Emma's help with getting the dress on. A corset came with it and she swore her ribs were being broken one by one to get it on. The dress itself was beautiful, though. Rose pink with golden embroidery of flowers on the skirt. Ruffles of pure white silk even. She looked like a Princess. Someone who would get their portrait painted. It was only her long golden hair that made her seem as if she was a commoner playing dress up. Would she have to do her hair every day? It was curly naturally, yes, however pinning it up would take hours. She was not willing to sacrifice that long of her day for simply looking royal. America was made up of mostly commoners. Why force herself to seem better?

She walked back downstairs, going to the kitchen and seeing England look a tad upset. The kettle was not yet boiling even. "England?"

England whipped around, his face going soft once he saw America. "Ah, now that's better. You look so much more grown up."

"It's fancy though. I feel as if I will never have an occasion to wear it."

England laughed. "Nonsense. You look fine. A beautiful young lady, America. France will have no way to judging your economic status now. He'll have to read. God knows the poor frog wouldn't pick up a book. I believe they are out of fashion in France."

"Reading can be out of fashion?" America was confused by his words. England just laughed again and went back to looking in her cabinets. "I'll wear this on special occasions, then. If there is a party or something like that."

America watched England for a few moments, seeing him still rummage around. His face in concentration. "Are you okay? Looking for something?"

England pulled back and sighed, running his fingers through the mop of blond hair. "Yes. I've been trying to look for the sugar for the tea. I haven't been able to find it."

"Oh...uh..." America let out a small laugh. "I have not been buying much sugar lately. Because of the taxes most are boycotting it. I-I'm not boycotting the taxes, no. I am just giving the sugar to others, you see?"

The look on England's face made America look away. He looked upset. As if she had stabbed him in the back. She was telling the truth. The more poor families who could no longer afford sugar due to the tax were given America's provisions. Happy to help those who could never help themselves, America saw no problem with her charity.

"You are telling me you are giving away the money I send you? Buying things you shall not use? America, these could be rebels. Do not act foolish I have heard of some of your people's wishes to leave England. To start their own nation. Is that what you want? To be your own nation?"

"My own-no. Well, I don't know. I actually wanted to speak about these things. Some of my people _are_ unhappy England. I thought by using this time we could sit down and have an actual formal conversation about political views," America said. "Since you do not visit as often as you may like and I cannot always write about everything that happens."

America watched England frown more and more as she continued on. She kept her smile up as England shook his head, closing the cabinet door. "No America. My boss makes these choices on your nation."

"But," America was frustrated now. It seemed as if England wasn't understanding what she was trying to say. "I understand that your King makes the choice. However you could convince him of some things, correct?"

"He is your King too, America." England let out a small sigh. "I am going to take a small rest before dinner. Perhaps you should go out and get sugar." With that, he was gone.

America stood there, motionless in the dress that England picked out for her. Something hit her heart with pain. England was not listening to her. Her people were unhappy with the rule. Some wanted independence, yes, however more wanting to simply have some representation. That would be her main argument to England. Convince _his_ King to do something. Instead she was here with all of her ideas in her head and an angry England.

Why was he so angry? It wasn't as if she was his only colony. That the English economy only stayed afloat because of her. He had Canada, many countries in South America, and other places where the crown had invaded. She did not even speak truly about becoming her own nation.

Dinner soon rolled around. America not really focusing on the meal as England dug in. It had gotten colder that night. The fire the only thing keeping her from shivering. Finally she could not hold it in any longer.

"England, please. We need to speak about this." America started, sitting up in her chair. "My people are unhappy. I am not asking for independence. I am not asking to be removed from your life. All I am asking is that you speak to your King about these subjects. Convince him that we should have representation. Convince him to remove the taxes. Please England." She waited and heard him say nothing. "England?"

"I made these matters clear." He took another sip of his stew, not even glancing up to see America. " _Our_ King knows best. Now stay silent and eat."

America's eye twitched. She was dealing with someone so stubborn. Her happiness about seeing England once more was fading. The blonde hair colony stood up and left the table, hearing England clean his voice. "And where are you going?"

"I need to clear my head." She replied, having Emma get her coat. "A walk."

England slammed his hand on the table. America couldn't help but jump as she saw the angry face of the male. It was as if she was a child again and he was scolding her for eating too many sweets. "No. You shall sit down and we shall enjoy this meal. Enough with acting like a child that cannot get her way. If anything I will forbade you from going out."

That was her true breaking point. America laughed, looking down to her feet. The beautiful rose dress was still on her body. Her house was paid for by the English. Her staff and her food. Her clothes as well. It was as if England was a gardener and America was a rose. Weeds and other flowers crept up behind her and he smashed them away, hurting the rose in the process. All to keep the flower to its original perfection.

She did not say anything to England as she left. The warm fur around her body to keep the cold of the outside. As she walked, her mind spoke to her that she was the enemy in this battle. That she was too quick. Put too much force. England had just arrived on land and yet she was pressing him with political matters. Yet she needed to. Her people were unhappy. All she wanted was to sit down with a conversation and to be done. Then go to the market or even to a ball with him. Happy memories filled her head when she was a child. It was as if as her body changed his idea of her morphed.

How foolish she sounded...

But perhaps he was the enemy. Not even allowing the idea of speaking to his King. Instead he brushed her off and dared say to forbid her from leaving her own home. It was all she could do not to freak out externally and possibly break something. It was England who raised her! He should know never to say that she could not do something. England was stubborn, yes, and she was as well. Got it from him most likely.

America sighed at her thoughts and looked up to where she was going. A group of people and English soldiers. Everything that happened next was too quick for her eyes to pick up. A scream, then bangs of guns and more screams. When she finally could comprehend there were people on the ground and a command to not fire. Panic fueled her heart as she ran to the first person she found on the ground. "Please...please don't be dead." She shook him, seeing the lifeless body. Others were gone too. Some fleeing in fear of being shot themselves and some took the wounded. "No. No!" She stood, glaring to the guards. "How dare you! They had rocks! You wield guns! What fight is that?"

One of the soldiers glanced to his commander before looking back, as if asking permission to speak to her. "They were throwing the rocks at us, miss. A different story."

"There is no different story. You killed people! My people." America looked back. The dead were still there. "I want you out. I want you out of my country!"

"And who are you to command us?" The leader stepped forward. She glared right at him, trying to appear taller than she was.

"I am Lady America, representation of this colony! I command you to leave."

It was the soldiers that laughed this time. "Only his majesty the King can command us of that. Now run along and stop playing pretend."

America didn't know what to do. The blood of her people was on her hands. The innocent. And this command of soldiers wouldn't move unless the King said so. How powerless she felt.

Turning on her heels, she fled quickly back to her home. Anger coursing through her veins. Fueling her as she entered and slammed the door. England came down the stairs, shock appearing on his face as he saw blood. He thought it was her's and she hurt herself while walking.

"America-"

"No!" She stopped him before he could continue. "This is not mine. Your soldiers did this. The men who you insisted were here to keep the peace. Instead they fire in on a helpless crowed. I want them out. There is no debate with this England." She stood tall. "I want them out and you shall convince your boss of this."

England's worry turned into the face that she met during dinner. Emotionless. "America, you are overreacting. I am sure there was a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding? They fired into a crowed. They shot they killed. I want them out now."

"No. They are staying here, America. You are the colony. I am the country here and you shall listen!"

America took a step back as he rose his voice. He had changed. England was no longer the England she knew as a child. "You are with them. You protect the men who killed my people." She huffed, running her fingers through her long hair. "I want you out as well, then. Leave my house. Leave my country."

"If you do not recall, I pay for this house. I pay for the food and the servants."

America stared, blinking. "F-Fine. If you cannot go, I shall. By hear my words, England. I shall get you out. One way or another."

And with that she went into the dark and cold night of Boston.

* * *

Author: Wow, that was fun to write. Sorry it took so long to get out. On top of work and the research it took me a while. I'm getting in more hours, which is good, but I don't have time to look up facts. I spent about two days just trying to find out if Benjamin Franklin would be in Boston during this time and what his opinions were. Hopefully the next chapter wont take as long. If you enjoyed this chapter please leave a review. They help with motivation. And thank you so much for reading :)


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